Jeff and Annie's Page a Day Calendar
by ChocolatMoosePi
Summary: For your daily dose of JA drabble in fluff, drama, humor, tragedy, and even a little smut.
1. Chapter 1

Hello J/A Fanworld!

I'm Hannah – Relatively new to the ship. I watched both seasons straight through on my way home from college for the summer, and then proceeded to read every J/A fic on this site, lol.

What I'm thinking of doing here is something I did a couple summers ago for a different fandom on a different site, and that is to post a daily drabble instead of pretending I have the attention span to follow through on longer fics (I have done so several times in the past, but not in a really long while). It will be kind of like a Page-a-Day calendar (Thus the Title) - Every drabble will be completely unrelated to the others. They'll range anywhere from a sentence to a page or two, and from pure fluff to complete emo to smut (I'll up the rating if I ever decide to go that way).

I've posted my first ever J/A fic below, and if you're interested in seeing me continue with this, please take a minute to drop a review and let me know. I live for reviews, and if you indulge me by writing them, I'll be happy, and much more likely to follow through.

With much love and hope of future interactions,

Hannah

And on with the show

* * *

><p>She wasn't just a pretty face.<p>

She was the puff of gauzy white air that escaped between his parted lips on a cold winter morning. She was the tingling of restless fingertips itching to dance across the strings of that dusty guitar propped up in the corner. She was that incessant tune ringing out in his head. She was the little blob of goop clinging to the corner of his eye as he awoke, affixing him to the recesses of his dream world. And she was the lingering contentment of a day spent by her side.

So no, she wasn't just a pretty face.


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, so this will technically make two drabbles per one day/night/early morning, but I'll confess that the first one was something I'd originally written for the other ship I did this drabble-a-day thing with. So this one's *technically* the first thing I've written for J/A.

In case there's any confusion: I am broke, and own nothing save for the little dignity I retain.

Please Review :). Reviews make me happy, and will play a large roll in deciding whether or not I continue with this.

* * *

><p>Annie Edison had never found herself attracted to one particular physical attribute of a guy above all others. She liked arms, and chests, and lips, and feet, and butts as much as any other girl, but she'd pride herself on telling you that it was a guy's winning personality that would draw her to him. Until now. Because as far as she could tell in the few minutes she'd known him, Jeff Winger's personality was pure prickles, sarcasm, and lies. But his thumbs…..Tapping incessantly on the keypad of his BlackBerry, flexing whatever muscles existed therein (She was a bit too flustered at the moment to recall that lesson in Biology, thank you very much)…Yes, Annie Edison had quite a thing for thumbs.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

1) Prepare yourself for quite a surprise...I own nothing

2) Okay, so this will look like three posts in one day, but I've slept in between the last one and this one, so it's my tomorrow =P. (The point being that you will not generally get this many in a day)

Thanks to those who read and reviewed the first two drabbles! You guys rock :)

This one is set in the season one finale, after Annie leaves, and during/immediately after Britta's confession.

Peace and Love,  
>~ Moosey ~<p>

* * *

><p>It was as though a paperweight had planted itself firmly atop his heart - allowing for the occasional pained and stuttered beating, but just enough to keep the blood flowing at a passable speed. Maybe it one of those cool ones with the scorpion inside. Britta would go off on him about the cruelty of entombing an innocent creature in a decorative – and honestly pretty useless – office item, but it wasn't Britta he was thinking about just now, nor her inevitable response to his entirely theoretical choice of the cheap-but-badass Lucite trinket. All paperweights from his old life had been genuine glass, frosted to resemble a high-class globe, or the Eiffel Tower. So maybe it was a coincidence that his daring choice coincided with his newfound interest in precisely the person who would have pointed out the questionable accuracy of the countries on said globe in his former office. Or maybe all those lawyer friends would chalk it up to just another by-product of his evident midlife crisis – yes, the same crisis that would soon lead him to stick his tongue in the educated teenager. But the classification and chronology of such events was no matter to him. For the purely metaphorical paperweight at the center of this debate was currently weighing down on his heart, and lungs, and gallbladder because the girl he had grown to respect and enjoy as a friend was leaving. And with this realization, his unlucky love triangle was about to become a square.<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

'Ello Again!

This one is set during Annie's pre-series breakdown, after she runs through the glass :)

Still possessionless.

Peace and Love,  
>~ Moosey ~<p>

* * *

><p>There is a buzzing in the stillness as she waits. Waits to hear the distant cry of sirens. Waits for the tittering whispers of passersby. Waits for the gentle reassurances of a kind classmate by her side. She waits, and breathes – raggedly, shivers – pulsingly, cries – silently. No one is coming. To tend her wounds. To hold her hand. To bring her back to the daylight. So she lies upon the concrete front steps of a school that never welcomed her, staring into cloudy skies as only ants come forth to greet her.<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

Hello to anyone reading this!

This one's a little bit longer, so I hope you enjoy :)

I do own your soul, but it seems that's about it...

Peace and Love,  
>~ Moosey ~<p>

* * *

><p>Cinematically speaking, Jeff Winger was the guy who got the girl. More specifically, he got her, nailed her, and then waited for the next hot piece of ass to walk by so he could nail her, too. He didn't do relationships, he didn't do long-term. He certainly didn't do riding off into the sunset toward his happily ever after. But, it seemed, he could be persuaded to compromise, because, as of this moment, he did chick flicks.<p>

When he was with Slater, he grew to know more about the characters of Glee than he ever cared to. He did this for one reason and one reason only: Slater fit the professor archetype – she was a woman in power, a slightly more difficult target (And Jeff would emphasize *slightly* to put to rest any misconceptions that she was out of his league. No girl was out of his league). Not that he didn't care for her, cause he had experienced….feelings, of a sort. But when he thought of her at night, he didn't picture the two of them in their pajamas, curled up on the couch all lovey-dovey. No, he pictured her in a pencil skirt and tailored blouse, square glasses low on her nose as she bounced a long stick in her palm, calling him to the front of the class, and asking him to please pull down his pants so she could administer his punishment.

Yet here he was, his $1000 shirt growing wrinkled by clutching fists and damp by tears as the final credits of The Notebook scrolled on the flatscreen in front of him. And he was still wearing pants – flannel pants, no less. But somehow, he didn't mind. He would suggest a slasher film when it was his turn to pick – capitalizing on the dual appeal of blood splatter and the chance to have her clinging to him in fear. But, strangely enough, he was pretty sure he liked this just as much. He'd actually spent almost as much time paying attention to the movie as he did peering coyly in her direction. Because it was Annie, and he was sure the only thing he needed from here on out was to make her happy. They weren't having sex, they weren't even making out. And they would probably fall asleep cuddling on his couch before they got there. But that was okay now, because he liked the cuddling. And he loved the person he was doing the cuddling with. And he finally understood what it really meant to get the girl.


	6. Chapter 6

Hi There,

I'm not sure that anybody on this site is actually reading these, so unless I hear otherwise, I may stop posting them here. But if I do that, I will continue to post them at: h t t p : / / m i l a d y - m i l o r d . l i v e j o u r n a l . c o m / (Sans the spaces, of course)

Peace and Love,  
>~ Moosey ~<p>

* * *

><p>Jeff was an asshole. More importantly, he was fairly certain that he had informed her of that fact on more than one occasion. Still, she insisted on pushing the matter. And so he stood there, listening to her annoyingly accurate interpretation of "The Annie of it All," and concentrating to still his face into a disbelieving and somewhat patronizing expression. Because he was an asshole. And he knew that that fact would remain true a month or a year or a lifetime down the line, and he would inevitably hurt her. So it was better this way. To play indifferent now to her fallen face, and save her the heartbreak of later.<p> 


	7. Chapter 7

Sorry that this is coming out so late it the day - I wasn't sure I was going to post it here, but it's not that much more work than it is to post it only of the Milady/Milord LJ site. So, per the lovely Mimssio's request, here it is :)

Also, I just wanted to say that I don't want to be one of those author's who begs for reviews, and I hope that's not how I've come across. I mean, I love getting them, but I won't threaten to withhold updates until a review quota has been met, or anything like that. I just don't want to keep putting the effort into something that nobody's even looking at. But I think at least a couple people here are reading this, so as long as I am posting this on the LJ site, I will update it here, as well :)

Peace and Love,  
>~ Moosey ~<p>

* * *

><p>Jeff Winger hated school dances. You wouldn't think it to look at his recent track record – he did, after all, have the coveted "All 5 Dances" T-Shirt in his closet from the year before. Way in the back of his closet, that is. Behind the cowboy costume and the bad 80s clothes he kept around "for nostalgia" (He was pretty sure he'd lost his virginity in one of those sequined body suits, but it <em>had<em> been quite dark at the time, and he couldn't exactly remember which one).

Junior High had been an unusually awkward time for him. Devilish good looks as he had working for him, it seemed few were interested in dancing with the lanky, clumsy boy, even with the enforced arm's length distance between dance partners – and his were long arms. So he propped himself against a wall on the far side of the makeshift dance floor in the tiny and poorly-disguised cafeteria, carefully sliding his all-too-practiced air of arrogant indifference into place as he avoided eye contact with the chaperones. Jeff was awesome. Clearly girls were intimidated by everything he had to offer their fragile egos. What did he care.

He avoided dances altogether until it came time for the senior prom. He'd opened his locker one day to reveal an invitation from Danielle Pickerman embossed with fancy lettering, and sealed with a lipstick kiss. It was no secret to his High School at large that he liked her. He'd been harboring his crush since Grade School, when she'd pulled his hair, and he'd given her a peck on the lips behind the monkey bars (It _was_, after all, the only way to keep her from messing up his do). But when he approached her at the dance, palms unnaturally sweaty, and a rose in his lapel, she revealed – albeit regretfully – that the invitation had been intended for the locker adjacent to his. And then strode off to the dance floor with her date, Kevin Myers. Two days later, he would lose the vote of "Most Handsome" to that loser, but for now he just sat, staring down at the cheap tablecloth in front of him, the rose held crumpled in his fist.

He had, in fact, been to more dances since entering this cesspool of a Community College than he had in all his years growing up. And few more good memories accompanied his recent torture than that of his childhood. But this one, surprisingly, kind of took the bill. Worse than watching Chang gyrate against Troy and Pierce – or his own wife, for that matter. Worse than undue confessions of love, or coy references to blackmail-worthy tirades that he doesn't remember recording. Worse than even the revelation that he didn't want to have sex with a perfectly willing, perfectly hot date…Were the wide, disheartened eyes across the room. Annie stood against the opposite wall, her head bobbing slightly in time with the music as she tried desperately to look as though this was just where she wanted to be. How none of the men had capitalized on this opportunity to steal her away and press their skeevy bodies against her own was entirely beyond him, but he knew her stance too well to pretend he hadn't noticed it. So with a sigh so ill-executed that even he would scoff at his sorry attempt at indifference, he pushed off from the wall behind him, sauntering toward her.

"Milady," he began, hand extended toward her as she whipped her head to face him, "May I have this dance?" She smiled, nodding enthusiastically as she, too, failed to conceal her true feelings at the prospect. And the two set off, hand in sweaty hand, to claim their spot on the dance floor, beside Troy, and Britta, and Abed, and Shirley, and Pierce, and – yes, even Chang. Just the way it should always be.

That is until the abrupt change of music to a much slower song – no doubt Abed's doing in his attempt to honor the inevitable awkward/exhilarating moment between secret crushes at their newfound proximity, before giving in to their impulses and dancing just a little closer than necessary. Jeff was not a teen movie buff, and as he watched his friends - save for Troy and Britta - leave the floor, even he knew that this was what was supposed to happen. Still, he couldn't help but silently thank the guy. After all, school dances weren't that bad.


	8. Chapter 8

I'm not particularly proud of this one - I was feeling sort of uninspired. But here it is :)

Also, I noticed a couple obnoxious typos when rereading the A/N from yesterday, but I was way too lazy to reupload the chapter. Oh well.

Peace and Love,  
>~ Moosey ~<p>

* * *

><p>"Trust me, that's not what they call you."<p>

He'd said it in such an offhanded manner, immediately turning and leaving the study room before he could see any damage he'd inflicted.

She knew what people said about her – she wasn't stupid, after all. She knew that people found her to be uptight, and academically over-zealous, and a little bit ridiculous.

But to hear him taunt her with it, however teasingly...She really had to stop waiting around for Jeffrey Winger.


	9. Chapter 9

Numero Nueve, Ladies and Gentlemen :)

I feel kinda eh about the flow of this one. It kind of bothers me, but I like the concept enough to keep it.

Peace and Love,  
>~ Moosey ~<p>

* * *

><p>When Annie Edison came into this world – screaming, and crying, and covered in goo – Jeff Winger was tapping his pencil impatiently in Algebra Class, staring at the clock, and unknowingly waiting for the invention of the cellular phone.<p>

When Annie took her first steps, Jeff rolled around in the back of his car with a girl.

When Annie won her first spelling bee, Jeff misspelled "Columbia University" on the diploma he was forging.

When Annie worked so hard to be the good girl, Jeff was elbow-deep in corruption, helping criminals go free.

But when Annie fell, so did Jeff.

When she began her first day at community college, so did he his.

When she graduated from that same community college she had threatened to transfer out of so many times, so did he bid a sorry farewell to the institution he once loathed.

And when Annie said her vows, Jeff said his in reply.


	10. Chapter 10

I made it to double digits, guys! :)

Haha, so I've been finding it harder to get inspiration these last few days, and I'm not sure how long this will last. I'll keep it up as long as I can, but if I start putting out severely contrived crap every day, I'll probably give up on the "daily" aspect of these drabbles and post only when inspiration strikes. Just to give you fair warning.

Peace and Love,  
>~ Moosey ~<p>

-

Wide, imploring swatches of blue against her pale skin. Eyelids stuttering in perpetual motion as cartoon window shades released too abruptly.

_Be strong, Jeff. Just hold out a little bit longer. She's** going** to fold.  
><em>  
>Pink lips pouting, quivering, demanding his resilience.<p>

_Do **not** look at her lips! What are you, an idiot?  
><em>  
>The slightest twinkle hinting at a tear yet to fall.<p>

_Well crap. _

"Ohhh, thank you, Jeff!" she squeals as she wraps her arms around his lower torso, squeezing briefly before abruptly turning to disappear down the hall.

"Yeah…" he mutters to no one in particular, "No problem."  
><em><br>What was he agreeing to, again?  
><em>  
>Two days following, Jeff will find himself dressed as an ear of corn (Annie can't special order a Can of Creamed Corn costume on such short notice, but will require that he inform the public that corn on the cob will not actually be accepted for donation), handing out fliers for the upcoming food drive.<p>

_Note to self: Wear blindfold in Annie's presence.  
><em>


	11. Chapter 11

Mimssio (I keep thinking I'm spelling this wrong): Yes, I did see your Thank You for the shoutout - Here's another one for you :). I totally get what you mean about not liking what you write. Generally when I write full-length fics, I won't post it unless I'm pretty happy with the result. But with these drabbles, it totally depends on whether or not inspiration strikes from day to day. And I'd like to keep the daily aspect going for as long as I can, but I'm kind of running out of steam.

This one was inspired by an interview I watched with Alison Brie wherein she mentioned how the writers work in the actors' talents, and said something about how she doesn't know what hers is.

It's a bit of a break from my usual writing style - I generally write more about thoughts than I do dialogue, and when I do write dialogue in longer fics, it's almost always much shorter than all the other explanations around it. But I wasn't really feeling inspired enough to write that much more :/

Hope you like it.

Peace and Love,  
>~ Moosey ~<p>

* * *

><p>"What can<em> I <em>do?" Jeff heard as he walked from the library, trailing what he thought to be the rest of the group. Upon hearing this low mumble, he paused to look back to the darkened study room, squinting to make out Annie's silhouette.

"Annie?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, Jeff!" she said with a start, "I thought you'd left."

"I thought YOU'D left," he replied with one eyebrow raised, "What's up?"

"Oh, it's nothing…" she sighed. He leveled her with a stare she could recognize as disbelieving, even in the low lighting. "It's just – " she began again, then paused, "It's just, everybody else has some secret, amazing talent... Britta and Troy can dance – and I saw Abed after the recital, he can too. And you can play pool. And Pierce writes music. And Shirley has this amazing voice…I don't have a talent."

"Okay, first of all," Jeff began, "Pierce doesn't write music. He steals well known songs, and tacks on the world's worst lyrics." He knew she was about to come to their friend's defense, so continued on, "And all those other things…They're things we've all had to practice at to get better. Well," he conceded, "Not Abed. I'm pretty sure he's never actually had a dance lesson, but people really shouldn't compare themselves to Abed. It just gets weird."

Annie chuckled slightly, but didn't seem to perk up much.

Jeff continued, "You, Annie, you have this amazing talent that you don't even have to work at… You make people want to be better." She fixed him then with the beginnings of a genuine smile. "And when they want to be better, suddenly, they are."

There was a quiet between them as they looked at each other through the dark, before she broke it, whispering, "Thanks, Jeff."


	12. Chapter 12

This one was inspired mainly by Investigative Journalism, but also by Asian Population Studies (Which, yes, I know came later than where I'm setting this story in the series), and something Dan Harmon said about not wanting a "will they or won't they" feeling on the show.

I struck a bit more inspiration with this one (thus the length), so I hope that comes across :)

Peace and Love,  
>~ Moosey ~<p>

* * *

><p>Curiosity had gotten the best of Jeff after his latest conversation with Abed "Radar" Nadir. He had stopped by the video store on the way home – trying, as he did, not to consider how much Annie would tease him about his age, pointing out that no one went to Blockbuster anymore, what with Netflix, and – Hello – the internet. As if having a landline and using the word "album" were somehow social stigmas. He sighed, recalling the way he'd initially gravitated toward the small selection on VHS, before steering himself to the DVDBlu-ray shelves. Hey – it's not as though he was behind the times. He had a Blu-ray player, and a flat-screen, and a remote-control wine cooler (SkyMall was a wonderful thing). But he also had a respect for the classics. And as he pressed play on M*A*S*H Season 1, he had a feeling he would be experiencing one.

He told himself he watched only out of curiosity over his own alter-ego – Hawkeye. But as he continued through the episodes, then the seasons, he couldn't help but admit his nagging desire to know the nature of the relationship between Hawkeye and "Hot Lips." He scoffed, initially, that Abed would compare their relationship to these two – the "will they or won't they," the stolen kisses…That was nothing like…..Well, crap. Maybe a little.

And Annie was strong-headed, and responsible, and a stickler for the rules. She objected to overt sexualization, but secretly delighted in knowing people found her to be hot. And she was hot – not just her lips, either.

But the more Jeff allowed himself these secret confessions – things he would most certainly NOT admit to any of the study group – the more he realized he didn't want their story. Not all of it, at least. Impatient as always – and unwilling to spend the months it would take to make it through all 11 seasons – he had skipped to the end. And he didn't want his relationship with Annie to end with a passionate fairwell kiss on graduation night. Passionate kiss, yes, but without the goodbye. And he didn't want the drawn-out "will they or won't they" – Abed, he was sure, would say something about how it diverged too much from their show's classification as a comedy. He was ready for the inevitably hilarious side-adventures. And the sex.

But mostly he was ready to stop being the Hawkeye who bedded nurses and drank martinis (Well, scotch). He wanted to be the passionate, determined, go-getter Hawkeye who did the right thing and got the girl. And he wanted that girl to be Annie. Annie was the upside.


	13. Chapter 13

This one's for fangirl_101 over on the Milady/Milord LJ Community (Pun Noted) for her lovely plot suggestion :)

Chris: Hi! Thank you for your comment, it's always great to see a new reader (or one emerging from lurkdom). I absolutely get what you're saying about dialogue - this show, especially, relies on the back and forth between characters. And if I were writing longer fics, I would definitely devote more time to it, because otherwise it just becomes some lengthy, self-indulgent inner monologue, lol. And I have put a lot more time into dialogue in fics I've written for other fandoms in the past. But the idea behind most of these drabbles is that they're just a moment in time being briefly described, more than they are a story. And I honestly just don't enjoy writing dialogue all that much unless I'm completely struck by inspiration for a specific conversation. I spend too much time trying to find better ways of saying "he said/she said," and it always feels strained and redundant to me. Not that I don't see the value of dialogue, and I love reading it in others' fics. I just tend not to focus on it so much myself. But thank you again for your comment - I don't want you to think it wasn't taken to heart. And I hope you enjoy this little hint at the ever-elusive smut you mentioned ;)

Peace and Love,  
>~ Moosey ~<p>

* * *

><p>Her pink tongue swirled languidly around the tip, smoothing it, shaping it. Licking her lips once she had removed them, and aiding in her moan of pleasure at the taste.<p>

Jeff felt his lap grow wet at the sight, looking down to find a small, sticky puddle of white. Damnit! His non-fat vanilla fro-yo was melting! And on his new Italian pants, too...

He reached frantically across the table for napkins, dabbing them upon himself as his eyes wandered back across the quad to watch Annie devouring her strawberry cone. If only one could trade places with a dessert…


	14. Chapter 14

Number 14! :)

Peace and Love,  
>~ Moosey ~<p>

* * *

><p>It had started out by happenstance, that empty chair. Jeff's place was at the head of the table, and with two chairs to choose from, he edged toward Britta, seeking out her affections.<p>

After the transfer dance, it became a vacant barrier, a way to distance himself, ever so slightly, from the forbidden fruit.

And now it was a step back. A better viewpoint of the object of his affection. A ticket to secrecy until the time was right.

Not for him to fill that chair, mind you, but for the barrier between them to exist no more.


	15. Chapter 15

Happy Father's Day! I probably should have written something holiday-appropriate, but I wasn't awake enough for forethought when I wrote this up last night.

Peace and Love,  
>~ Moosey ~<p>

* * *

><p>It wasn't just her wide, teary eyes, her fluttering eyelids, and her resemblance to a sad Little Mermaid. It wasn't the cute factor, or the disheartening thought of disappointing a puppy. Truth was, he had always been a little bit hot for The Little Mermaid as a kid. And his desire to make Annie happy had nothing to do with childlike features or naïve sensibility. He just wanted to make her happy.<p> 


	16. Chapter 16

Hello again :)

Not much to say about this one, so here you go.

Peace and Love,  
>~ Moosey ~<p>

* * *

><p>Annie gently wiped at the condensation on the mirror with the side of one fist, clearing a small patch free of the steam as she opened her towel to examine herself. It was something she had done quite often, once – standing naked before her reflection to evaluate every aspect of her form, mentally assigning ratings to various body parts at the will of her critical eye. She had not relied on the habit much since she and Jeff became a couple, more easily mustering and retaining her own self-confidence. Yet she did relapse on occasion. Jeffrey Winger was not a man to go after a girl for her brains…So he had to see <em>some<em> redeeming qualities in his own realm of interest.

Was it her breasts? She'd been self-conscious of them for years, padding her bra for cheerleading practice. A crumpled tissue had fallen out once when she'd bent to pick up the books Daniel Teller had knocked off her desk on his way to the board in math class. Everyone had laughed as she clumsily brought the tissue up to blow her nose, her bright red face fooling noone. But, she had to admit…With her acne gone and her weight under control, her chest had filled out in a way that seemed to attract many appraising glances from the male population.

It could be her legs. She'd always found them to be a bit stubby and bowed, and her dark hair and pale complexion made for an embarrassing stubble that grew back much too quickly. She wore tights to hide them, and short skirts to make them appear longer. And sometimes it seemed to work. When guys weren't staring at her boobs, she had noticed their necks craning just a bit to get a peek further down.

Or maybe it was that Jeff had some weird fetish… He could be into arms, or feet, or maybe he liked her back?

She sighed, furrowing her brow as she turned to face the wall, her head peering back over her shoulder as she appraised the view in the reflection. Her eyes dropped lower to take a quick peak at what she considered to be a rather large rear end, and she sighed in disgust and self-loathing. She turned forward again, staring helplessly ahead.

"You're beautiful," he said from the doorway, his voice laced with sleep, and his hair – well, actually a bit more kempt than his usual "bed head". Huh.

But she smiled, genuinely – though it was small – because she knew what he had said meant more than just a number on a scorecard in a long line of hot, vacuous women. Because for whatever reason, he loved her, every bit of her. And she'd take it.


	17. Chapter 17

I'm posting this super early because my day tomorrow will be fairly packed, and I don't want to forget it.

Peace and Love,  
>~ Moosey ~<p>

* * *

><p>What would her mother say if she could see her now? She wasn't just her little girl anymore. She had made herself grow up - gone to rehab, gotten an apartment.<p>

She knew her mom wouldn't approve of her enrollment at Greendale (She had left a few messages with her at the start of the year to inform her of that fact, but none had been returned), or her involvement with an older man (She had considered briefly, at the start of their relationship, that she might be with Jeff just to get back at her – the theory evaporated as she glanced over to see him smiling).

Her mom wouldn't see how much she'd changed - not just in the mind-boggling physical transformation she'd undergone, but in her personality, as well (She supposed she'd always been strong – to survive the years of rejection and ridicule – but she had never before been so strong-willed).

But part of this new life of hers was learning not to care about her mother's disapproval. She was happy, and she was free. And, someday…Her mom would see that.


	18. Chapter 18

Hey, sorry this is going up so late - I had a craaaaaaazy night last night (Essentially consisting of me freaking the hell out in the middle of the night at the house I'm cat-sitting at as every possible weird and creepy noise was heard, lol).

Peace and Love,  
>~ Moosey ~<p>

* * *

><p>Their first kiss had been hurried, purposeful, a means to the end. Not to say that it had happened solely for the purpose of winning the debate, mind you. The end to which the means pointed was rather the resolution of a building tension that had become too unbearable to ignore.<p>

Their second kiss was spontaneous on the surface, but not entirely unexpected – especially if you were Abed. After all, the aforementioned tension had not, in fact, been resolved.

And their third kiss was a tender inevitability, a meeting of the minds – and mouths – in comfortable give and take. A preview of


	19. Chapter 19

Mleh. like the concept of this one but not so much my execution.

Peace and Love,  
>~ Moosey ~<p>

* * *

><p>Jeff was…pointy.<p>

His nose stuck out like a shark's fin from the middle of his face.

His ears could almost pass for normal, if not for the two sharp angles squaring them off at the top.

His elbow jutted and jabbed her painfully in the side as he turned fitfully in his sleep before settling against her, pulling her close.

And his personality was designed as a glinting sword, to look pretty to passersby, but stab those too close to the blade.

Britta had been rigid and hard – the two were drawn together, but could only briefly touch, constantly fencing and striking and clattering against each other in battle.

Annie was soft, accepting. She could accept the blows and mold around them, conforming without losing herself. She could cushion his harsh edges, and he would accept the hold.


	20. Chapter 20

Number 20 - Hooray!

Peace and Love,  
>~ Moosey ~<p>

* * *

><p>Jeff winger was really good at talking.<p>

Closing arguments, inspirational speeches. He didn't have to mean it – he could say it, and they would just believe.

But, by some accident, he found someone who didn't always believe him, and wouldn't always let him get away with his lies, and shortcuts.

She was a real pain in the ass.

And he needed her.


	21. Chapter 21

21 Drabbles - Whoa! So here's what I'm thinking...I'd love to keep this going for as long as it can (The title sort of suggests I'll make it 365, but that's just not going to happen), but I am losing steam to a degree, as well as some of my interest in continuing it. So I'm thinking I might take this to 25 and then put it on a hiatus of sorts. I do have bursts of inspiration - which generally account for the longer drabbles - and should those strike, I will absolutely continue to post them. It just won't necessarily be a daily thing... This isn't what will absolutely happen - for all I know, I'll be hugely inspired for drabble number 26 and continue on from there stronger than before. I just want to give everyone fair warning (if people even read what I write at the top of these posts) before I fall off the grid.

Peace and Love,  
>~ Moosey ~ <p>

* * *

><p>Boys were dumb. They never called when they were supposed to. They never noticed if you changed your hair or bought new clothes. They said you were too young to date. Such an obvious copout. Instead of saying they're not interested, or telling you what the problem really is, they focus on the one thing you can't change. Or worse yet, they are interested, and just fixate on something that legally and emotionally doesn't matter in the slightest. And somehow you're the one who ends up miserable, wondering what you did wrong. Stupid boys.<p> 


	22. Chapter 22

555 seemed like such a good number, I couldn't bring myself to edit this one, lol.

Peace and Love,  
>~ Moosey ~<p>

* * *

><p>"Promise me you'll remarry," he said one night a few years into their marriage, leaning over the breakfast table with his cereal spoon poised in his hand.<p>

She paused with hand outstretched, halfway to handing him the milk carton, "Why would you say that? Aren't you happy?" Her voice raised an octave, her neck retreating backwards as though revving up for a fight, "Are you asking me for a divorce?"

"What? No!" he exclaimed, fumbling with a napkin to sop up the milk she had spilled, "I'm just saying…I'm probably going to die long before you do. And that's good – that's the way it should be, and I couldn't live a day without you. But I don't want you to spend the last 20 or so years of your life alone. Or worse, like Britta, with three dozen special needs cats."

Annie emitted a sound lost somewhere between a sigh and a whimper, trying to decide if she should hit him or hug him.

"Just don't marry Vaughn," he added in her silence.

"Vaughn?" she tutted incredulously, "Why on earth would I marry him?"

"Marry Troy, or Abed," he continued as though she had not spoken, "Just whatever you do, don't marry Pierce."

She stared for a long moment, her face twisted in disgust, "Pierce will be dead way before you are."

"Hey, you don't know that – they might find a way to turn lava lamps into people by the time I've croaked."

She laughed, strained, "And I could never marry Troy. Britta would kill me, and it would just be too weird. Abed, maybe…"

He looked put upon as she seemed to contemplate, suddenly not quite so keen on the idea of her with one of their friends. "What is it with you two? Is it the Han thing? Cause I can be Han. I am Han." He straightened up, trying his best to look handsome beneath an unkempt mess of morning hair.

"There's nothing going on between Abed and me," she sighed, exasperated to be soothing his jealousy as she had so many times in the past. "Besides," she continues after a beat, "He has Robyn."

"Who?" His eyebrows knit in genuine confusion. He knew he didn't always listen to the group drama, but he knew the main events.

"She's who he's talking to when he goes to stand by the lamp."

"I'm not even going to touch that one." He paused, sighing as he creases in his face relaxed from their expression of confusion into a more serious façade, "But seriously. I'm not saying you should go off and get hitched the next day, but I don't want you to sit around pining for me." He smirked slightly, "Though if your rebound guy happened to remind you of me – but less handsome – that would be okay."

She pretended to consider this request, before responding off-hand, "Well, okay. I guess I could give Rich another try."

His face steeled, mouth open and gaping though with no sound coming out, "Rich? But- but- but-" he stuttered.

She hid behind her napkin, stifling a mischievous giggle. And at that, face settled into a look of determination, he was out of his seat, chasing her across the room as she shrieked and fled, lifting her over his shoulder and tickling her sides when he caught her.


	23. Chapter 23

Got this idea from the brief mention of breakfast in my last drabble, lol.

Peace and Love,  
>~ Moosey ~<p>

* * *

><p>Annie could hardly contain her excitement – nor indeed her sick sense of glee – at the secret she'd found. She knew Jeff was no stranger to lying, but this? This had just brought it to a whole new level. For in her hand was a box of none other than the sugary, brightly-colored Froot Loops of guilt, and pain, and regret. Not that she understood how something so delicious could make anyone unhappy, but it was what Jeff had assured her (upon her first glance into his cereal cabinet, and expression of distaste at finding Kashi – "Really, Jeff?"). If only she had taken the opportunity to look behind the healthy stuff that first time, he would have been standing beside her as she discovered his little secret. She'd just have to milk (pun unintended) this knowledge for all she could when she told him. Oh yes, Jeff was in for a night of (sugary) sweet torture...<p> 


	24. Chapter 24

One more day 'til 25!

Peace and Love,  
>~ Moosey ~<p>

* * *

><p>Jeff fidgeted nervously with the knot of his tie as his mother led them in through the foyer of her house, only stilling when Annie gently clasped her hand around his, lowering it.<p>

"You know, Jeff," the elder woman began, "when you said there was someone you wanted me to meet, I must say, this is not exactly what I was expecting."  
>Receiving no reply from her son save for an almost strangled look of apprehension, she turned her interrogation on their young guest, "Come in, my dear – sit, sit. So, who is your mother, then?" Jeff's eyes grew very, very large. "Oh, I know – Janey Framer, from the Junior Prom?" Annie looked uncomfortable, mutely shaking her head from side to side. "No?" she continued, quieter, thoughtful. "Well then…It must be Susan LaPorte! Sophomore year on the Ferris Wheel!"<p>

"Um, no mam…" Annie replied, at a loss for how to respond to situation, and receiving no help from the stunned silent Jeff.

"Debra Turner? Lesley Yard? Rach-"

"Mom!" Jeff nearly shouted, stuttering as he shook himself from the stillness that had come over him, "Annie is not my-my…" He lowered his voice, nearly choking on the word as it came out, "…daughter." He recovered his senses, before declaring with a sense of defiant pride, "She's my girlfriend!"

The room was silent. Painfully silent. Overwhelmingly and dramatically…silent.

Until Annie began to laugh, a full, joyful, hysterical laugh. And his mother was soon to follow. And as the humor of the situation remained lost on him, he furrowed his brow at the way the two women leaned toward each other, grasping for support as tears began to find their way down their cheeks. Not the tears that had him doing his girlfriend's bidding, no. These were the tears that found their way out when the laughter at another's expense was too much for sound and convulsions alone.

"When did you two arrange this?" he grumbled out, pouting.

"Last week," his mother wept, "You were screening my calls – as usual – and dear Annie took the time to actually talk to me."

Of course his mother and his girlfriend would conspire against him.

He sighed, sinking further into the overstuffed couch cushions as a new wave of laughter overtook the two across from him.

Might as well loosen that tie.


	25. Chapter 25

Hello!

This one is super short... Haha, maybe I should have saved one of the longer ones I've written recently to post as number 25, but this will just have to do :)

So, as I mentioned a few days ago, this 25th drabble marks the beginning of a hiatus of sorts on this fic. I will continue to post here as inspiration strikes, just without the pressure of a daily deadline.

Thank you to all my faithful readers who have taken the time to keep up with this and leave their kind comments - you guys are awesome.

Peace and Love,  
>~ Moosey ~<p>

* * *

><p>Annie was an anal-retentive, type-A personality, über organized planner. Jeff knew this. It was a source of constant annoyance, a wealth of teasing potential, and a secretly endearing quality. As long as he was a factor in her plan, he wouldn't change a thing.<p> 


End file.
